Shadows of Time
by Ataris
Summary: Lost in the midst of a sand storm, two year old Luke Skywalker is forced to rely on a mysterious person to find his way back to the Lars homestead. (Complete)
1. Storm

**Shadows of Time**

Disclaimer: I do not have any affliation with the Star Wars saga, George Lucas, Twentieth Century Fox or any other companies or people responsible for the making of the films and extended universe.

Spoilers: Some.

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He tumbled over the hot pulse of sand that arose in the humid breath of air. His fingers sprawled opened to protect him from the hard fall that would stain his body with markings that would only cause him pain until it faded into oblivian with only memories to hold its place. 

His fingers sprawled open over the burnt carcass of endless sand. The canvas sack weighed his small figure down. Luke rolled over onto his back. The dead blue sky shifted in colour. It's opaque blue stretched into a golden haze. He remained still, his thoughts drifted back to the homestead where he was sure that his aunt and uncle waited for him.

Luke dragged his tongue across his dry, chapped lips. The Lars homestead dissipated in the blind fury of the storm that chased away the barren desert boredom of the planet's landscape. His Uncle Owen was sure to scold him for wandering away from the scheduled area of play.

He could no longer draw out the torment that the sand blindness brought to his pale eyes. His blue pupils burnt with hot tears that dared to smother his face that was charred with abuse from his lonesome play time. Fear pressed itself to his breast. He did not know the way back to the homestead, and found the worriesome myths of sand people to choke him for air.

"Are you alright?" The soft voice broke through the thick barrier of sand that curtained around Luke. His scarlett eyes found the figure who remained still above his crumpled body. He shook his head, the figure reached for his small hands that disappeared into the person's silky hands as they embraced.

"What are you doing out here in a sandstorm, Luke Skywalker." She frowned, her hands disentangled from the two year olds calloused ones. Her brown coils of hair folded beneath a dark cloak to protect her face from the ravages of the wind. The child stared at her for a moment.

"I lost." He pronounced, his tongue wrapped around the words. The woman patiently nodded, as the child stuttered his story in a tongue that had only found the words fresh to his vocabulary. She clutched at the canvas sack that rested on the two year old's shoulder and lifted it into her hands.

"It is too dangerous to take you back to the Lars homestead now, but you can stay with me until the storm goes, alright?" She asked softly. Luke nodded, as he followed her through the intericate dooms that travelled across the barren boundaries of the desert. His hand linked in hers.

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To Be Continued... 

Sorry about the length of this chapter and the grammar. I saw ROTS again!


	2. Desert Rose

**Shadows of Time**

Disclaimer: I do not have any affliation with the Star Wars saga, George Lucas, Twentieth Century Fox or any other companies or people responsible for the making of the films and extended universe.

Spoilers: Some.

He twisted his fingers into the light stubble of his beard. He settled into the groove of the chair. His thin robes desperately clung to his heated skin. Desperately, his fingers clawed at the coif of his robes to get to the irritated flesh on his lower neck.

He would have to get a cream from a healer before he returned to the depths of the desert tundra. He relinquished his nails from the inflamed area and took the cup of blue milk that the young woman placed before him.

"Thank you, Beru." He whispered. His lips parted to welcome the cool liquid into his mouth. His throat parched for the water or any other liquid. It had taken more than an afternoon to reach the homestead and his water had evaporated in the duo suns.

Her short brown hair capped beneath the warmth of a toque. Her tongue crawled against her lower lip. Her pleasant features endorsed by the soft touch of blush to her slight cheek bones.

"Do you think he would have survived the storm, Ben?" Her warm brown eyes bled with tears. Her hand shuffled for a tissue that rested in her breast pocket. She brushed away the precious liquid, embarassed to have wasted the vital essence that was worth so much that it was a pity to waste over an unfounded fear.

He nodded. He had little doubt that the little boy could survive the desert atmosphere of Tatooine. After all, Anakin had survived it with far less than Luke. Ben's blue eyes winced closed as his mind opened to the turbulant static of the force.

The soft signature of the two year old drummed in the voluminous cry of death. Fourteen other Force strong presences cried in misery as their bodies were forced to part from their souls. Darth Vader's signature pounded heavily in the stream of vision that invaded Ben's view.

It had always stunned him that Darth Vader could sense many force adept creatures across the galaxy...except his own flesh and blood. Ben punctured the vision. He withdrew from the comfort of the chair that Beru offered him in peace.

His fingers caressed the coded key of the hatch to allow it to hum open. A soft smile broke at his face, as he lifted the child that stood humidly outside the door. His fingers latched around a wooden amulet.

"Don't ever do that to me again, Luke." Beru cried as she snatched the two year old away from Obi-Wan's tender embrace. "How did you get home?"

"The pretty lady." Luke pointed out to the far edge of the desert. Obi-Wan smiled as the woman raised her hand in a small wave as she disappeared into the depths of the land scape.

"Who was that, Ben?" Beru asked. Her hand stroked her nephew's tangled blond locks of hair. Ben smiled. His face dulled by the sun's gentle light.

"He was right...she really was an angel." Obi-Wan muttered as he drew his cloak that hung lazily in the corner. His smile softened by the light that broke through the immeasurable darkness that surrounded the galaxy.

Anakin had right all along. Padme Amidala had been an angel and even in death remained to be a fixature of hope in her family's mourning eyes.

THE END...

Author's Note: I know it was short, originally there was supposed to be a middle chapter but I just could not find myself capable of writing it. I hope you all enjoyed my short story.


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